Running in Blind
by NihilNoviSubSole
Summary: Starring Arcade Gannon plus my original Courier OC. No romance/sex, just action and internal monologues. I really hope you like it!
1. Chapter 1

**1**

"Any crimes you have committed against the Legion are hereby forgiven," drawled Vulpes Inculta. "Caesar will not extend this mercy a second time. We will be seeing you at Cottonwood Cove in very short order, I hope."

Arcade tried to remain discreet as he compulsively clenched his fists in his pockets, his nails, untrimmed from weeks away from the Followers camp, digging into his palms. He was not the one being addressed, of course—the Legion met him with a cold indifference on account of his relatively pacifistic nature, despite his position with the Followers. Rather, Vulpes Inculta was speaking to Rose, who stood with confidence at Arcade's side, despite being secretly unnerved by the sudden appearance of the Legion spy. Arcade anxiously studied her face, awaiting her response. One wrong word and they could both be shot dead right there on the Strip.

"Yes," she answered quietly, "You'll see us there. We will try to be prompt."

"See that you do," commanded Vulpes Inculta. He turned on his heel and swiftly fled from view.

Rose let out a long, slow breath that she didn't know she'd been holding in, closing her eyes as she did so in an attempt to ground herself. She was vaguely aware of her friend's comments on the ominous nature of the Legion spy's visit, which denounced the Strip's security systems and questioned House's morals (which, to be fair, had always been questionable).

Arcade and Rose's friendship was largely founded on their mutual hatred for the Legion. Their shared interest in the common good, as well as their matched intellect, had made them fast friends following Rose's arrival at the Old Mormon Fort, the site of the Followers' Camp where Arcade had been stationed.

Arcade recalled how Rose had stumbled into the Camp a couple of months earlier looking worse for wear. Her hair was caked with Mojave dust, her old Vault jumpsuit was blood-stained and torn, and she was reacting badly to a Nightstalker bite: her left leg dragged behind her, swollen, her jumpsuit rolled up to the knee.

"Um," she'd said as she approached Arcade, who was doing guard duty near the gate. Her eyes were unfocused, her movements ataxic. "I, uh…" She gestured at her worn-out body. "I could use some…uh…patching up." She let out a feeble, tired laugh.

Arcade grimaced. "Sorry, I'm just a researcher. Hang on a second. Dave, cover me for a minute. This young lady is in bad shape. I'm going to take her over to Julie."

"Thanks," murmured Rose, before slipping out of consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

When Rose had awakened, she was sprawled across a filthy mattress on the bottom bunk of a pre-war bed. The world, though out of focus, gradually grew louder around her as she regained awareness of her surroundings, remembering where she was. Instinctively, she groped for her glasses.  
>"Might as well relax a minute," came a vaguely familiar voice. "Julie has your glasses. You cracked them when you passed out, but she had some spare parts lying around to patch them up. "<p>

After a moment's thought, Rose recognized the voice as the research doctor who had met her at the gate. She sat up. Her leg stung with antiseptic, but was no longer the bloody, swollen deadweight she had dragged two miles to the Followers camp from the Nightstalker-ridden caves to the West.

Some asshole along the Long 15 had told her that the caves were full of much-needed medical supplies, as well as some food, caps, and a place to sleep. But a gang of Vipers had set up shop inside and, after fighting them off, their pet Nightstalkers had swarmed in around her, around 10 or 20 of them. She'd made it out alive—but barely. When she saw the Followers flag waving in the distance, she made her way there at half her normal pace, fighting back tears as the Nightstalker venom began to burn through her capillaries, slowly but surely reaching the muscle. Unfortunately, the flag wasn't as close as the vast emptiness of the Mojave made it seem, and so, by the time she'd used the last of her strength to open the enormous wooden gate to the Camp and deliriously requested aid from the researcher who was standing guard, she was completely depleted.

"How do you feel?" asked the researcher.

Rose laughed bitterly. "Well, I'm blind, sore, a bit sick from the Med-X, and pretty much everything on my body is tingling with antiseptic—nonetheless, I'm grateful to be alive. Thanks for patching me up, Mister I'm-Just-A-Researcher."

"Be grateful for the leg," he replied, "We almost lost it. Oh, and it wasn't me who fixed you up. You can thank Julie Farkas for that when she comes back with your glasses. I've just been watching you to make sure you don't go into cardiac arrest post-detox. That Nightstalker venom is a narcotic without any of the fun parts to make its use 'recreational', I'm afraid."

"Would you believe that that was one of my prevailing thoughts as I hauled my ass up here?" Rose mused, shaking her head with a faint smirk. "I was thinking, 'man, I can feel this Nightstalker venom eating the fuck out of my leg. I know it's a drug, and I'm thinking to myself, 'If I'm gonna die out here in the wastes, can't I at least hallucinate? You know, maybe see something a little less depressing? Like a pre-war waterpark or something like that. Something to ease the pain of losing a leg. Or, you know, the pain of dying at nineteen in a post-apocalyptic hellhole."

The researcher laughed. It was good to see someone with a sense of humor for once, Rose thought. Everyone was too damn serious these days.

"Well, look who's up!" exclaimed a female voice from the tent's entrance. "And making plenty of conversation I see. Arcade, thanks for keeping an eye on her. Here are your glasses, Rose. Good as new. And—oh, shoot, hang on a second." The woman, responding to a cry of "Julie!" from the other end of the camp, passed the glasses off to the man called Arcade and dashed off.

Arcade handed Rose her glasses. "Here," he said, "They're nearly the same prescription as mine! I pity you for that. Must be a shame, to be blind as a mole rat at nineteen."

"It's not so bad," murmured Rose as she slipped her glasses on. The world's reality hit her all at once in crystal clarity, making her head spin. She lay back down on the bed, closing her eyes.

"Hey, hey, not so fast," chastised Arcade, "You're gonna need to take it easy for a little bit—though, we're overcrowding quick so you probably won't have as much time as you need. Give it another day before you continue on your great journey…or, whatever it is you're doing. What are you doing? If you don't mind my asking."

"It's not that interesting," Rose replied, her eyes still closed.

"Really?" Arcade prodded—then, looking around surreptitiously, casually kicked the flap of the tent closed. "Because, Rose…" He dropped his voice to little more than a whisper, "I just don't think people get bullet scars in their heads for getting the washing done."


	3. Chapter 3

"Why are you so curious?" asked Rose.

Arcade was silent for a moment as he reflected on the fact that he actually had no idea.

"It's alright," she continued, "I'll tell you." She took a deep breath. "Okay. Basically I was a Courier with the Mojave Express. I was carrying a package that someone really, _really_ wanted. So he shot me in the head for it. I have no idea what it was or why it was so damn important, but now, I'm trying to track the motherfucker down. As far as I've gathered, he's on the Strip somewhere."

Arcade was stunned. "Wow," he said under his breath, "You survived that? That's amazing, first off. But, Rose…seriously…why would you come all this way, putting yourself in all of this additional danger, just for _revenge_? It seems…well…kinda stupid, honestly."

Rose turned away. _Shit_, thought Arcade, _now you've really done it. This is why Julie never puts you with patients. Fucking bedside manner._

But then she spoke up in quiet, measured tones. "I understand that. But it's not the revenge that I'm so concerned with, Doctor…?"

"Gannon. But really, Arcade is fine."

"Arcade, then. It's more of the journey itself. Look. The reason I was working for the Mojave Express was so that I could explore." She paused, looking skyward to find the right words. "Most jobs these days are just sitting in one place all day; then, going home at night and trying to scrub the dust and the fallout out of your hair. Everyone is so obsessed with their own safety that it's absolutely crippling to the rebuilding of the Wastes! So I explored—every delivery, I'd come back late, but I'd be making a note of every interesting place I found, sticking its location in my Pip-Boy so I could come back later. And then some son of a bitch tried to take that reasonably _simple_ joy away from me, either by killing me or leaving me a vegetable." She broke off at that point for a moment. Arcade watched as she regained her composure, her eyes avoiding his, absently scanning the tent for her belongings.

"Anyway," she finished, "Yes. It's about revenge. But it's also about slowly reclaiming my life. And, hopefully, helping some people along the way."

Arcade nodded solemnly. "That's good," he said, somewhat bemused, "Very good. I really admire your dedication. I'm amazed you've made it this far alone, actually."  
>"Thanks," said Rose with a smile, "Most people just think I'm insane."<br>"Ha. Well. Good luck to you when you get back out there. You'll need it." He started to walk away with the intent of re-summoning Julie so she could file the outpatient papers. There was obviously no sense in trying to convince this girl to stay any longer than absolutely necessary, and, frankly, that time was up when she started talking.

"No," came Rose's voice after a moment. Arcade turned on his heel.  
>"What I need is another hand out there. Especially someone more experienced in medicine than I am. I mean, I'm okay—I can stick in my own stimpaks and patch myself up from time to time, given a doctor's bag—but I can't always get to the Followers. And it does get dangerous out there. And, more importantly…it gets kind of lonely, if I'm honest."<p>

Arcade knew where this was going, and he wasn't sure if he was entirely on board. "I—you want me to…" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This girl he'd just met wanted him to come with her on some crazy revenge-slash-exploration mission? "No…I couldn't…the Followers…"

"You already said they're overcrowded and you're a research doctor. Call this some field research. If you're not in the business of treating patients most of the time, your services are probably better off used outside the gates. Plus, there are people in need all over the wasteland. There are people like me…people who can't always get to a Follower's camp or clinic. I know you're not a 'people-person', but don't you think that maybe…just maybe…the 'common good' might just come a little bit at a time?"

Arcade lowered himself into the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. He took off his glasses and put his face in his hands, running his fingers through his stiff, blonde hair as he did so. She had a fair point, as a matter of fact. The research he'd been doing was leading to a dead end fast—something about stimpaks out of barrel cacti. Or something. He wasn't even sure anymore, he'd been lost in the same tedious calculations for so long. And, frankly, he was getting bored.

"You know what, you're right," he muttered, deep in thought, "I need to find a new research angle and I'm not gonna find it here. Alright. Fine. You know what? Fine. You've got yourself a doctor on your team. But there are a couple of things I need to know, first."

"Shoot," said Rose, climbing out of bed and reaching for her scattered belongings, gingerly applying pressure to her affected leg.

"Okay. Number one, are you now, or have you ever been, associated with the Legion?"

Rose laughed derisively. "Only in terms of abject loathing. Did you happen to find the spear-shaped scar on my shoulder, too? No, Caesar can go fuck himself, rest assured."

Arcade smiled. "That's good to hear. Alright, let's get going! We have people to help, things to learn—well, not necessarily in that order, but let's get to it!"

"Wait," Rose interrupted, "weren't there more questions?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Those were entirely dependent on your answer to question one. If your answer had been 'yes', the next question would have been, 'then why are you wasting my time?"

"Fair enough," Rose smiled as they made their way to the gate.


	4. Chapter 4

Arcade shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. It seemed so long ago that all of it had happened. Rose's presence seemed very…_normal_, despite the inherent abnormalities of their various misadventures. Everything—every abandoned vault they had explored, every troubled town they'd tried to help, and every desperate traveler they'd healed—had brought them so much closer in such a short time. In fact, he realized, Rose was probably his best friend.

And now they were headed to a Legion camp.

_Well_, thought Arcade, _if it has to happen, it might as well be with someone I trust._

_Trust._

Trust was a difficult concept for Arcade.

Even this "best friend" of his was completely in the dark about his past unsavory associations.

It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her. At some point, he realized, he must. What was preventing him from doing so was a combination of fear that she might respond poorly…and the very slight, quiet voice in the back of his head that worried he might be betrayed. After all, Rose had just been admitted to the Followers not three weeks earlier: her sense of duty to the cause might outweigh her loyalty to him, he realized, and who could blame her? By the Followers' reckoning, he was a dangerous man. His knowledge that he was nothing like his father, as well as the knowledge that his father was only nominally like the Enclave, didn't really mean anything. He had no proof that he wasn't operating on some secret agenda—after all, he thought with a grimace, you can't prove a negative. And the Enclave was pretty much everything the Followers had aimed to avoid.

Still. He hoped that Rose was smart enough to realize what kind of a man he really was.

Even if he wasn't.

Suddenly, Arcade felt absolutely awful. How was it fair of him to reward her willingness to place her life in his hands by not trusting her enough to tell her who he was (or, rather, who he wasn't)? After all, it had been said that if you can't trust, you can't be trusted. Well, someone had said that, anyway.

But maybe—just maybe—on the way to a Legion camp was not necessarily the right time to speak up.

However, there was something else on his mind of equal importance that he felt he _could_ address: Why the hell were they listening to Vulpes Inculta and going to see Caesar?


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

"Wait, wait, wait," Arcade commanded suddenly, snapping Rose back from her reflection, surprised by his sudden tonal shift.

"What's the matter, Cade?" she asked, concerned. They were approaching Cottonwood Cove's gates where some Centurions—Caesar's toughest, most merciless soldiers—stood guard. Rose anxiously drew him back a few steps: his hatred for the Legion could very well cause him to say something they'd both regret, were it said within the earshot of the guards.

"Now, what's going on here, exactly?" His tone was grave, verging on accusatory. "Am I playing Virgil to your Dante? Look, Rose, I'd like to assume that we're venturing into the gates of Hell out of academic curiosity, but I'm not so open-minded that I've let my brains fall out."

Rose had known Arcade would question their objective at some point. She was actually surprised he'd stayed quiet for as long as he had—but, as usual, he'd seemed to be deep in thought during the whole trip, so she dared not disturb him at the time. (The one time she had, he'd nearly taken her head off for making him lose his train of thought. He'd then spent the rest of the night muttering angrily to himself, fervently trying to regain his place.)

To be fair, he had a point. Why _was_ she dragging him to what was, for all intents and purposes, his personal worst nightmare?

But he was right in that she was, in fact, incredibly curious. How could she not be? Despite all of the Legionaries she and Arcade had shot in self-defense when they'd accidentally wandered too far east of the Colorado, Caesar himself had not only extended an invitation to them both to see him personally, but he had also expunged their crimes from the record.

So, she remained honest in her response to her friend. "Arcade," she began, "I know this is freaking you out, and I'm sorry. I'm a little freaked out, too. But all I want is to get in, see what the son of a bitch wants, and get the hell out as fast as possible." She took his hand and squeezed it affectionately. "It'll be fine. No, look at me, Arcade. Right now." He reluctantly obliged and met her eyes.

"It will really be okay. I have Caesar's mark. They won't hurt us as long as that's in my pocket. You know that."

"No," he said exasperatedly, "I know that they won't hurt _you_ as long as that's the case, but—"

"Arcade Israel Gannon," Rose cut him off sharply. The chill in her voice combined with the use of his full name, which only a select few people knew, was enough to silence him immediately.

"Now, that's enough. Do you really think I'd drag you in there with me if I didn't have the fullest intention and ability to defend you if, God forbid, something went wrong? Or if I didn't have the confidence that you could, with equal ability, defend yourself? What kind of friend do you think I am? Or do you just think I'm an idiot?"

Arcade stared at his shoes. "No…I really don't…I—"

"Then trust me, alright? We _will_ be fine, no matter what it is that Caesar wants with us. Do you believe me?"

After a moment's pause, Arcade nodded. "Yes. Okay. You're right. I'm sorry."

Rose smiled. "It's okay. Now let's get going. I want to get this over with."

Arcade nodded in agreement.


	6. Chapter 6

Caesar was sitting on his throne, squinting at the Mojave sunset through a tear in his tent, deep in thought.

When Vulpes Inculta had brought him the news that the elusive Courier Six and her Follower friend had agreed to meet him at the Fort, he had smiled. This was something he'd been awaiting for a long time.

The pair had already proven themselves adequate in combat: armed with nothing but a couple of Plasma Defenders, they alone had managed to take out some of his best Explorers to the east. News of the altercations had traveled with spies, who hid in the distance with binoculars, back to Caesar, and he was impressed.

But more than that, Courier Six held House's interest—and, thus, his own.  
>Whatever was on the Platinum Chip was crucial to the upholding of House's regime, so the sooner it was repurposed for the Legion, the better. They'd captured Benny, but his uncooperative (or perhaps incompetent) nature had been detrimental to their success in deciphering the Chip. As near as they could figure, the Chip would unlock whatever lay beneath the Weather Station building—the doors to which they had attempted to drill, blast, and smash open, all to absolutely no avail. They simply would not budge.<p>

There was a small slot by the doors of the building, however, that held promise: it appeared to be precisely the right size to hold the Chip, and could very well unlock the secrets that lay below.

But he couldn't be sure, and that's where Courier Six came in: it was up to her to insert the Chip in case its effects were devastating—a self-destruct trigger, for example, that could blow the building sky-high.

They'd each succeed in their own rite, if all went according to plan. Courier Six would gain access to Benny, as was the goal of her revenge; he would learn what lay underneath the Weather Station, and, finally, she would regain the chip in the end.

However, it would be Caesar who decided what happened after that.

Caesar smiled to himself once again. This would be a very interesting encounter, indeed.


End file.
